Lemon Tarts
by ancazur
Summary: Shinon receives an unusual letter with a job offer, but there's no indication who it's from. But else would go out of her way to hire the world's greatest sniper, other than the world's greatest detective?


_A/N: This is intentionally crack. Shinon and fem!L are my roleplaying muses on tumblr, and I've been determined to find a way for them to communicate. Surprisingly, they have more in common than I originally thought._

* * *

Sunlight had been a lost commodity. For the past week, even high noon had been cast in the looming darkness of storm clouds, with pelting rain and high winds that made a sniper's job impossible. So when Shinon awoke to warmth on his back, to the long-forgotten feel of a sun-drenched blanket, he knew it would be a good day.

But then he heard the rabble in the kitchen.

"Oscar said _I _could get the first egg!"

"Nuh-uh! _You_ got the first one _last_ time!"

Shinon groaned and buried his face in the mattress. "Fine," he muttered, throwing off the warm blanket. "Up and at 'em. Can't let Rolf eat all that breakfast."

But as he threw he legs over the side of the bed, he noticed a small envelope on the nightstand. It hadn't been there the night before, and his room had been locked. He eyed it cautiously, as if it might attack, before picking it up between two fingers. His name was elaborately scripted on the front.

"What in blazes?"

He flipped it over, eyebrows arched in surprised when noting the wax seal. Wax seals meant _position_, and they meant _money_. He slipped his thumb beneath the embossed, red _L_ and pulled out the letter.

_I have a job for you. Do not tell the others. I will see you at the fountain in market square at noon._

"Confident bastard," he mumbled, turning the card over. It wasn't signed or anything. If he had a lick of sense he'd ignore it, but he was mostly curious how it _got there_. And if someone who could afford fancy stationary and wax seals wanted to employ him, he wasn't going to argue.

He had his own things to take care of, anyway, near market square. After he dressed and grabbed a stack of toast from the kitchen—ignoring Oscar's protests—he took the walk to town. It was the first sunny day in what felt like ages, and he was going to enjoy every bit of it.

* * *

Market square had an excellent bakery. L was perched on the fountain's ledge, rummaging through the white pastry bag at her side. She peered beneath the rim of her floppy hat—the sun was far too bright today—for Shinon to emerge from the armory. She was licking sugar off her fingers as he appeared.

It was obvious he was looking for her. She chewed another tart, slowly, as he approached the fountain. A few people were seated around it; she wasn't the only one by herself. Shinon was muttering to himself as he passed, not even glancing down at her.

"Shinon." He stopped, slowly craning his neck toward her voice. "Have a seat. But not too close."

The latter was an unnecessary command; his disgusted look was enough to show he had no intention of sitting anywhere near her. He settled on the other side of the pastry bag.

"Lemon tart?" she asked, pushing the bag over slightly.

"Uh… no. How'd you get in my room?"

She pulled the bag closer again, pleased that he didn't partake in her sweets—but also knowing he wouldn't. "That's the first thing you ask? Interesting."

"You had to get by a bunch of mercenaries and a locked door. Call me curious."

"You need to heighten your security," she simply replied. He had failed to mention the open window, but it was better to leave him guessing.

"_Fine_."

L reached into the pastry bag to pull out another envelope: slightly larger, and noticeably heavier. "I apologize for the sugar," she said, holding it out. L was already staring into the bag for another tart, deliberately avoiding his eyes. Shinon scowled, glancing between her lowered head and the envelope, then snatched it from her hand.

He lifted the seal, but didn't remove the letter right away. She didn't have to look up to understand his hesitation: The envelope was weighed down with a hefty amount of gold. "I ain't even done anything yet," he mumbled.

"An advance," she said, her face practically buried inside the bag. "Or simply a thank you for taking the time to meet me, if you do not accept."

He unfolded the letter, which was carefully printed on the same heavyweight paper. It shouldn't have taken so long to read, but she knew he read it over several times. Trying to find the catch. L lifted her head, finally looking at him close-up for the first time. He was a mercenary, all right—a bit roughed up beneath a desperate attempt to look decent. She stared at his biceps, which bulged a little too much seeing he held only a piece of paper. It was a physical, obsessive reaction to the gold, to having money he didn't have to share. This was someone who preferred working on his own.

"Hmm." L popped a lemon tart into her mouth.

"What's the catch?" he finally asked, looking up. He jumped backward, startled to have her staring straight at him from such a close proximity.

She tilted her head. "What makes you think there's a catch?"

"Anyone could do this." He waved the letter in her face. "Why go through the trouble? You could bribe some chump kid or something."

It was true. It was a fairly simple job, and all she required was a sniper. Any sniper. "You are the best, correct? I only work with the best, for I am the best myself." She didn't add how curious she was about him—a desire to see the legend up close. "There is only one chance, and I would rather pay more to ensure the job is done right."

"The best, eh?" He slipped the gold-heavy envelope into his satchel. "Who are you, anyway?"

She stared at him blankly, wiping a trace of sugar from the corner of her mouth. "The best, of course."

"So you want me to work for someone whose name I don't even know?"

She shrugged. "But you will accept the job regardless, correct? It's a good amount of money."

"Listen here." He jabbed a finger at her, and she recoiled as it nearly touched her nose. "You think us mercenaries can just be bought off like that, eh? I've got my standards. I ain't so desperate to accept your pity money."

"You're lying, but it is convincing." She hugged the bag of lemon tarts. "For full effect, you should have thrown the money at me and left."

His shoulders slumped. Shinon rested a hand on the satchel, now heavy with gold. "Fine. Won't be the first job I don't know the name of the guy who hired me." Another obvious lie, but she let it slide. He stood and extended a hand to her. "Pleasure doing business."

"Likewise." She stood as well to face him, craning her neck up to meet his eye. But didn't take his hand. "This is a good opportunity for you. If I'm pleased, you can expect to hear from me again."

"Yeah, yeah." He swiped the fringe from his forehead, a casual gesture after she wouldn't shake his hand. "And then I get to know who you are?"

"But I have already told you." Her smile was eerie, paired with the dark shadows beneath her eyes. "I will give you a hint. It would benefit you to examine the first letter I gave you. More specifically, the envelope."

Shinon frowned. "But that only had my name . . ."

"Good day, Shinon." She nodded, whistling as she turned away.


End file.
